A Sirius Situation
by sapphyredragon-rn
Summary: This is the story of how Sirius got out of-and recovered from-Azkaban. This WILL BE SLASH of the Sirimus variety. If you don't like, don't read. For those of you who read Lily Knows, the slash will not be overtly carried over to that story. This story is rated M for language and smexin. You have been warned.


_Disclaimer: Anything recognized (which in this case will be names of characters and places) belong to the lovely JK. Anything else is my own._

_A.N.: Alright, ya'll. Here's the promised story of Sirius' removal from Azkaban—as referenced in my story Lily Knows. _

o 0 o

The clink of chains echoed throughout the halls. The soft _drip drip _of water reverberated through the air. The harsh inhale and exhale of breath sounded only in his ears. The atmosphere was freezing cold, unnaturally so. The air tasted of brine and smelled of rotting fish and human waste emerging from the small two inch hole in the floor that was his refuse receptacle. The distant _whoosh _of waves breaking themselves on the crags on the far side of the island grated on his nerves.

In the beginning, the sound of the water had been soothing, however now it was just another noise in the cacophony of madness that surrounded him. The weather here was always overcast, it had been years—at least he thought it had been—since he'd properly seen the sun. As far as he could tell, he would never have that opportunity.

His friends had all abandoned him, and rightfully so. It was his fault, all his fault—gray eyes snapped open. It had gotten much colder, it always did when the dementors came near. With a muted pop, a scrawny black dog stood inside the cell. Although the black fur was matted, it was much warmer in this form. As an added bonus, the consuming despair that the dementors brought with them was much lessened in this form. He curled up in the corner behind the decrepit cot—it wouldn't do to have anyone, even a mad prisoner, see this form.

As a dog, the bite of the briny air was harsher, the noises louder, but his mind was blissfully clear. A murmur came from down the corridor, a click of shoes—_human shoes—_reverberated in his ears. Sighing balefully, the man resumed his human appearance. If the wardens were doing a walk-through he would have to endure the harsh depression of the dementors without the shield of his animagus form.

A silvery light shone from further down the passageway, slowly getting brighter. The man frowned, he had never seen the wardens utilize a patronus in the walk-throughs prior. He remained seated in the corner behind the cot, knees pulled up to his chin and eyes closed. The clacking of shoes stopped and a light shone through the bars of his cell door. He still refused to look up, refused to allow the guards to see just how far he had fallen. The weak light illuminating his cell revealed an emaciated skeleton of a wizard with black, greasy hair matted to his skull. His fingernails were long and curled, his skin blackened with years of dirt.

The jangling of keys caught his wandering attention. The doors of Azkaban prison were enchanted so that spells could not be used to open them, he recalled distantly. His cell door creakily swung open, rasping against the uneven stone floors. It stuck half way, it had been nearly a decade since the door had last been opened. Meals were shoved through a hatch on the floor.

There was a muttered curse from the aisle and then, "Sirius Black."

Sirius' eyes snapped open, confusion evident. What on earth was going on? Outside his cell—which was now open just enough for him to slip out—were two aurors and one Azkaban guard.

"Come." The guard snapped. "You'll be going with the aurors. We'll not be seeing you again." The guard laughed harshly.

Sirius gulped. What did that mean? Were they going to take him out and _Avada_ him? He still hadn't had anything resembling a trial. Obviously, things such as trivial legalities were irrelevant in this new post-Voldemort world, he thought bitterly. There was a time when his position as the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black would have ensured a swift trial—with veritaserum if he requested, without it if he protested.

Sirius snorted, years ago, when he had run away at sixteen, his mother had burned him off the family tapestry. His father, however, had refused to formally disown his eldest son and heir. Orion always had been the more rational of the two married cousins. After Orion died when Sirius was 21, he was entitled to claim his Lordship, Wizengamot seat, Hogwarts board of governors seat and Head of House status. Unfortunately, by that time he had been too caught up in the war and Lily's pregnancy to present himself at the bank. He was most uninterested in _anything_ to do with his heritage at that point. As far as he knew, his bitch of a mother still lived in the Black ancestral home and cursed his name at every opportunity.

Harsh hands grabbed him around his bicep in an iron grip. Sirius started, what was going on again? Oh, yes, he was leaving this hell hole. Most likely marching to his death, but leaving at any rate.

"Up, Black. Are you so far gone that you can't even remember a simple command from one moment to the next?" The guard scoffed, "Serves them right, fucking frogs, anyhow."

The guard hauled him up to his feet and shoved him toward the barred door. He stumbled, unused to supporting his weight on his own two feet and malnourished enough that he collapsed in a dead faint twenty feet from his cell.

o 0 o

Sirius woke to the soft slap of water against the boat that he was evidently laying down in. Weak sunlight shone in his eyes and the harsh bite of the air around Azkaban had lightened to an almost balmy breeze. His soul felt lighter than it had in ages. Obviously they were leagues away from the foul prison. He attempted to sit up only to find himself strapped by his head, chest, waist, thighs and calves to a board. Obviously his captors wanted him to be as uncomfortable as possible. Sirius struggled weakly before remembering the situation he had found himself in. The aurors had come to remove him from the prison.

"Ah, sleeping beauty awakes." One of the aurors sneered. "We're almost to the harbor and then we'll be washing our hands of you."

Sirius's heart filled with dread at that notion. He was still unsure what exactly the situation was, but he was fairly certain if they were going to kill him it would have been a simple feat to just toss him overboard while he was unconscious.

He felt more than heard the boat rasp against the sandy shore, a muttered spell later and the board he was strapped to raise up out of the boat. With a sudden lurch, he felt the spell holding him aloft release and found himself submerged in the freezing surf. For a split second, he thought perhaps he was mistaken and they _were_ going to kill him. However, the spell immediately reengaged and he rose spluttering and coughing from the briny waves.

The first auror chortled. "There we go, can't hand you over smelling like an outhouse."

Abruptly, he felt a spell wash over him, drying and warming him instantly.

"Ve vould prever if zee prizoner vere alive," came a heavily accented, cold French voice, "'e eez not to be 'armed. Ve vill take 'im from 'ere."

Sirius snapped his head to the left—or rather he tried to, the straps holding him prevented all movement. He couldn't see anything except the edge of a navy blue robe, although he got the impression that there were several people just out of his line of sight. The levitation spell was again cancelled and Sirius felt a headache bloom behind his eyes as the board hit the ground.

"Zis vill be reported. Ve 'ave 'im. Leave. Now." The same French voice commanded.

Two loud snaps indicated the disapparation of the Aurors, leaving Sirius alone with the Frenchman and his comrades. A muttered spell and Sirius felt his bonds lift. The man squatted down and eased Sirius to an upright position.

"Monsieur Black, 'ow are you?"

Sirius groaned. "Hurts." He rasped, his voice rusty from—presumably—years of disuse.

A potion bottle appeared in his line of vision. Sirius' eyes followed the arm up to the body of the man holding it. When he met the man's eyes, he nodded. "Eet eez a mild pain potion. Ve do not vant to give you anyting else until you are zeen by zee 'ealers."

Sirius reached up to grasp the bottle and was horrified to find his hands were shaking.

"'Ere." The first man took the bottle and held it up to his lips. Sirius greedily gulped down the potion, hoping that it was, in fact, what the man had claimed. He was relieved to find that the murder of crows flapping about in his brain had indeed calmed down. "Come, let us leave zis place."

Sirius found himself gently lifted to a standing position by the two men. Although, when they attempted to allow him to stand without assistance, his legs immediately began to give way. The two men, without hesitation, wrapped their arms around his waist and kept him upright, uncaring of his soiled garments. Sirius glanced around, finally able to take in his surroundings. They were standing on a deserted stretch of beach surrounded by dense deciduous trees in all manner of riotous colors. There were two more men dressed in blue robes with their wands out, apparently keeping watch.

"Wha-" Sirius coughed.

"You vish to know vhy? Or vat?"

"Both." He rasped.

"You are being deported to France. Ve vill be taking zis portkey," The man on his left indicated a three-foot length of rope, "in deux minutes. Ve vill be taking you to l'hospital."

"Josue, Ferdinand, venez." The man on his right commanded. "Il est temps de quitter cet endroit."1

The two men who had been guarding the perimeter came to stand one in front and one behind Sirius, ensuring that anyone wanting to do him harm would have to get through them first. The rope was wrapped around Sirius' body so all five men could touch it. "And 'ere ve go, en troix, deux, un." Sirius felt the sensation of a hook behind his navel and the beach suddenly disappeared in a rampage of color.

He heard a string of French curse words before everything went black.

o 0 o

The next thing Sirius was aware of was the antiseptic smell of _hospital_, the stark white walls and the cloud-softness of the mattress beneath him. He awoke with a start, forgetting, for a moment, how he had gotten here. There was a soft beeping coming from some apparatus behind him and a cord that lead from a bag that was floating above his head to his arm. Someone at some point had relieved him of his prison rags, cut his nails, bathed him and dressed him in a soft, cotton hospital gown.

Sirius was very confused as to what exactly was going on. The men who had taken him said he was being deported to France. But why? Sirius contemplated his situation, becoming more anxious by the second. As his anxiety increased, so did the rate of the beeping.

A tap on the door broke him out of his thoughts. The door opened and a reasonably attractive blonde woman entered the room. "Monsieur Black. I am 'ealer Beauchamp. You are at St. Brigid's. 'Ow are you feeling?"

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but found that his voice had left him completely. He simply smiled and nodded.

Healer Beauchamp gave him a half smile and handed him a small paper cup of water with a lid and straw. "You vill be veak for zome time, zee nutrition in zee IV bag vill 'elp you regain your strength." She motioned to the floating bag he had noticed earlier. Seeing his questioning look, she continued, "'Ere at St. Brigid's vee take zee best of muggle medicine and marry eet vith magic. Vat 'as been impossible before can be done now. Ve are alvays looking for zee next best zing. Vat ve 'ave 'ere is a vay to give you zee nutrients you do not 'ave, even eef you are not avake or cannot svallow. Eet ees delivered directly eento zee blood. Ve 'ave potions zat 'ave been designed to be delivered een zis mezod az vell."

"Why..." Sirius' voice, when it came was very gravelly, and he winced. He wondered if his voice would ever return to the smooth, silk it used to be that Remus had—he stopped that train of thought. Remus hated him, thought him a traitor. He took a deep breath and tried again, "Why am... I..." He huffed in frustration as his voice gave out on him again, motioning to the room with a shaky hand in attempt to get his point across.

"Vhy are you 'ere?" Sirius nodded. "You 'ave been brought 'ere to recover from your stay at Azkaban. Zee minister vanted you removed from zat place. I do not know all zee details, but zere are zose vhich do. Zey vill be 'ere soon. Ve anticipate zat eet vill take you several months before you are een any vay recovered. Drink zee vater, eet vill 'elp your voice."

Sirius glanced down to where the weightless glass had been magically refilled. "Thank...you."

Another tap sounded at the door. Healer Beauchamp turned and opened the door and Sirius nearly dropped his cup. Standing in the door was a much aged, much lined Remus Lupin.

"Ah, Monsieur Lupin. 'E 'as just avoken."

Remus barely spared a glance for the healer, slipping past her into the room. He hesitated a foot away from the bed. Sirius could see tears glistening in his eyes. He still couldn't believe it, his Remus was here. He reached out with his right hand, "Re...my."

Remus sank down in the chair by his bedside and buried his head in the covers at his waist. "Siri," his name came out a sob from Remus' mouth. "Dammit, Siri. So sorry..." The man's broken words were muffled by the covers, "...a fucking idiot. Why?" Sirius raised one eyebrow, the Remus he remembered never cursed outside the bedroom.

Sirius settled his hand in Remus' hair and stroked, "Shh." He rasped. "Is...O...kay."

Remus' arms came up to rest on either side of Sirius' body. His raised red-rimmed eyes to search out Sirius' own. One hand crept up to trace Sirius' face and Sirius realized with a jolt that he had no clue what he himself looked like. "Fuck, Siri." Remus whispered. "Missed you. So bad." He cupped Sirius' cheek in his hand. "So pissed. So long." Remus shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, their foreheads touching.

Sirius brought his hand to rest on the side of Remus' neck, their eyes locked together, searching. Sirius knew the moment that Remus found what he was looking for. He crashed their lips together desperately. Sirius slid his hand back into the hair at Remus' nape and tugged. Sirius moaned and opened his mouth to lick at the seam of Remus' lips and was immediately rewarded. Remus opened his lips and their tongues twined together, mapping each others mouths out. It had been so long...

It was minutes or hours or days later that they separated. Sirius wasn't sure, and was certain it didn't matter. He was out of that desolate place and Remus was here. For a moment, Sirius wondered if he had in fact gone mad and was now trapped in a world of his own making.

He was broken from his thoughts by Remus' snicker, "No, Siri. You've not gone mad. You're really here. I'm really here." He hesitated, "And Harry is here, too." Sirius' eyes snapped open, "Well, he's not here at the hospital, but he is here in France. He's the reason we were able to get you here."

"How?" Sirius asked, his voice a little stronger. He looked at the glass that, miraculously, was still in his hand and took a large drink.

"It's a very long story, and I'll tell the whole thing to you when you're better, but the short version is that he has been raised by Lily's friend Stephanie. She's married to a muggle Ambassador who is stationed in Paris. I'm his private tutor." Remus added proudly, "He's quite the brilliant child."

Remus got quiet again, "I had no idea, Siri. When Stephanie asked me how you were, I almost lost it." He choked, "I...I thought you'd killed them. Stephanie set me straight immediately and we started working to get you out of there. Fuck, Siri. I'm so sorry. I know that-"

"Stop." Sirius put all the force he could muster into that one word, "We wanted...it that way." Sirius took another drink of the wonderful water, "You're swearing...Remy. You never...swear." Sirius eyed the now blushing Remus, when he was satisfied that there would be no further mention of the past—at least for the moment—he continued, "Now, I want...details. How did...Harry manage to get...me here?"

Remus grinned, "It was a brilliant combination of... well, no actually it wasn't a combination of anything. It was sheer Slytherin cunning." Sirius eyed Remus warily, "Harry is nationally acclaimed as "the Boy-who-Lived," surviving the killing curse and banishing the Dark Wanker all in one go. Honestly, Stephanie and Harry cashed in on his name to convince the French minister to grant you citizenship here.

"The Blacks have an estate in the country. There was a media blitz in the Prophet—or rather, there were a few stories before the British Ministry squashed them. The minister here kept pressure on the Brits to 'turn over our citizen for questioning.' They insisted that, as a citizen of France, they have the right to try you and sentence you. They argued that you should have been deported as soon as you were arrested. Forget the fact that you weren't actually a citizen here until two months ago. They were just starting back in with public propaganda when the Brits finally caved."

Remus grinned, "That was four days ago. It took a few days for all the arrangements to be made and you've been here for two days. You'll remain here at St. Brigid's until you're physically recovered and the Mind Healers feel that you're mentally stable enough to stand trial. Then you'll get the trial that you never got in England. Once that formality is over, Stephanie and Marshall have invited you to live with them in their mansion so you can get to know your godson. I'll even let you help me train him, if you're good." He leered.

Sirius was amazed at the lengths that had been gone to to get him here. "I'm always...good." He leered back at Remus, "Now, kiss me again."

Remus grinned and brought his mouth down to Sirius'. This time there was no desperation in his kiss, only sheer longing. Their mouths moved in tandem, tongues twining together reawakening long-forgotten memories and deep seeded yearning. Remus pulled back and whipped out his wand, enlarging the bed so he could stretch out next to Sirius. Once he was situated, he gently pulled Sirius towards him and pillowed his head on his chest.

Sirius curled his body around Remus' and sighed in satisfaction. It had been so long... "Remy?" Sirius looked up through his lashes at Remus. "How long?"

Remus sighed, "It's September 1989."

Sirius exhaled, "Shit."

Remus snorted, "Indeed." Remus hesitated, "Siri? Do you think you could tell me what happened? I just don't understand why I didn't know."

Sirius winced at the hurt tone in his lovers voice. "You were gone... Dumbledore had sent you...on a mission. We... only made the change... three days before..." Sirius paused to take another drink. "You remember all the... fights I got into? We thought...that maybe one day my... luck would run out... and they would capture... me. James was worried... that they would have some... dark ritual that could force... me to talk. We changed... so that if it did happen... I wouldn't hold the secret... anymore."

Remus nodded, it made sense, in a twisted way. Unfortunately hind sight, being what it was, left much to be desired. He ran his hand over Sirius' head, careful not to tangle his fingers in the matted hair. "Sleep, Siri. I'll be here when you wake up."

Sirius hummed in bliss as his eyes slipped closed. He couldn't have stayed awake any longer if he tried.

o 0 o

When Sirius opened his eyes again, it was morning. He was blissfully warm, surrounded by the woodsy scent that was Remus. He hummed, it had been ages since he had felt this good. A good portion of his aches had disappeared overnight and he wondered what exactly was in that floating bag that was feeding potion into his blood. Remus shifted next to him, brushing up against him intimately, although Sirius was far too relaxed to get excited.

Sirius ran his hands down Remus' side, brushing against him. His eyes widening when he discovered the other man's arousal. Sirius glanced up at Remus' face, still relaxed in sleep. As Sirius' hand snuck to the clasp on Remus' trousers, he glanced around the room; the door and the blinds on the observation window remained tightly closed. He deftly opened Remus' trousers, noting absently that the tremors had ceased, and slipped his hand inside. Above his head Remus moaned softly, his hips twitching.

Sirius pulled Remus' turgid cock out of his pants and licked his lips. He ran his fingers down the sensitive underside lightly, pulling another unconscious groan from Remus' lips. Sirius snickered, Remus must be having a good dream. He ran his finger over the head of Remus' cock, collecting the precome he found there, bringing his fingers to his lips. Sirius moaned, he had missed the taste of his Remus.

He returned his hand to Remus' length and stroked lightly for a moment before taking a fixed grip on Remus' straining manhood. He began to stroke firmly, the way that Remus used to like, adding a flick of his thumb over his slit on the downstroke. He looked up at Remus' face as Remus' eyes flew open and he moaned, loudly.

Sirius locked eyes with Remus and everything else deteriorated into unimportance. He forgot that he was in a hospital room, it didn't matter that he had just been released from Azkaban. What mattered was the credulous look on his lovers face, pupils blown wide in arousal and the flush climbing up his neck. Sirius's surroundings faded away, he didn't notice the steadily increasing beep of the monitor by his bed, didn't hear the soft snick of the door opening, nor the one of it closing immediately thereafter. All that mattered was that Remus was _almost there._

The next moment, Remus shattered. His back arched and his head snapped back, eyes closing and he was coming. Thick ropes of white semen spurted from Remus' cock, one stream hitting Sirius in the face. He continued to stroke Remus through his orgasm, bringing his hand up to lick his hand clean when it was over, humming in satisfaction.

Remus looked at Sirius, wide-eyed, "I cannot believe you just did that!"

Sirius grinned, still licking his fingers clean, "I missed you, Remy."

Remus groaned and grabbed his wand from under the pillow to clean them both up. "Honestly, Siri. You're-" Remus was interrupted by a tap on the door.

The door opened to reveal a highly embarrassed Healer Beauchamp. She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her and looked at Sirius sternly, "Monsieur Black, you are recovering from an extended eellness. Eet eez far too zoon for you to be engaging een... relations." She hesitated, "Eef you are unable to control yourself, ve vill be forced to revoke Monsieur Lupin's night visiting privileges."

Sirius looked at her with wide eyes and opened his mouth...

"Non," the healer cut him off before he could say anything, "I know zat eet 'as been years. I vill forgive you zis von transgression. Ve vill speak of eet no more.

"Now," she continued in a businesslike tone, "zis morning—and every morning—you vill be vorking vith zee physical zerapist for von 'our to 'elp you regain your muscle mass. Een zee afternoons you vill be vorking vith the occupational zerapist 'oo vill 'elp vith your fine motor skills, such as writing and eating. You vill also be seeing a Mind Healer each day." With that proclamation, she turned and strode out the door.

Once the Healer had left the room, Remus stretched and turned to Sirius, "Love, I've got to go. It is a weekday and I've still got to tutor Harry." He cupped Sirius' cheek and kissed him tenderly, stifling his protests, "I'll be back this evening. If everything goes well, I'll bring Harry to meet you this weekend. It's Tuesday," he added, in answer to Sirius' unspoken question.

Sirius nodded and settled back down under the covers once Remus had slipped out of them.

Remus turned just before he reached the door, "Oh, and Siri?" Remus grinned, "Tonight? We're cutting your hair. It looks a fright!" With that proclamation, he turned and shot out the door.

Sirius was left gaping at the door. He hadn't even considered what his hair looked like in the last twelve hours since Remus had walked through the door. He raised his hand to his hair, cringing when he encountered clumps of oily messiness. It was a wonder that Remus even touched him. He sighed, he could tell by the feel of it that his hair was beyond any magical help. The only solution would be to cut it all off, as Remus had said, and hope he could have a hair regrowth potion in the near future. He really did not have a head that looked good bald—as Remus well knew.

o 0 o

1. Come. It is time to leave this place.


End file.
